Desperate
by CrimsonFlowerz
Summary: Because he was desperate to feel, Sam Winchester did unspeakable things. Warnings inside.


**Desperate**

**Warnings:** Rape, Foul Language, Mild Violence

* * *

_Sam Winchester_ didn't feel when he was soulless. He didn't feel the spark of fear that should have been there at the knife digging into his flesh. He didn't feel remorse or regret when he bashed that demon's head in; the demon who used to be a person… that body crumpled and broken. He didn't feel that tug of sympathy in his stomach as they watched them burn.

But he did learn that feeling nursed emotions… and emotions made you weak.

And he did feel pleasure in being top dog… in being in charge. He felt those bodily things, those things disconnected from the soul. He felt those things his body wanted to feel…

So of course, he felt nothing, when he grabbed Dean by the belt-loops of his jeans and pulled him close; hot and eager. He didn't feel that knot in his stomach that told him what he was doing was wrong, when he shoved his brother back onto a shitty motel bed. And he didn't taste the bile in his throat when Dean begged him to stop, but he wouldn't.

Sam was desperate to feel… and because of that, he did unspeakable things.

* * *

"Sam, s-stop!" Dean begged; a low, hysteric that spoke volumes of his brother's fear and confusion. He thrashed at Sam's chest, trying so hard to get away… to pretend this wasn't happening. But Sam's hand went from Dean's belt to the small of his back, and his teeth sank into his neck, drawing blood. Dean yelped in unwelcome surprise as his means of escape shrank until there was little to no chance. Sam wasn't letting go, and it was painfully clear what he had planned.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, trying to be forceful now; like it would make a difference. He pulled Sam's hair, tried to shift away… but Sam's nails bit into Dean's skin, leaving pale, crescent moons. Sam backed Dean into the bed, hitting the back of his knees into the board, and making him fall onto the sheets.

"Sam, what are you doing?!" Dean gasped as Sam followed him down, un-doing his belt. Dean shoved at his broad shoulders, cursing heaven and hell that Sam had grown much bigger than him. Why couldn't older equal stronger? Why would that have been such a big deal?

"No," Sam smirked, leaning down to nip at the underside of Dean's chin. Dean started to feel hot dread pool in the bottom of his stomach. He squirmed, as if Sam was literally taking his fight away from him. He felt tired, like he'd been fighting something much more impressive than his little brother. Although, on Sam's behalf, his nickname _was_ 'Moose'.

"P-please…"

* * *

Sam was never one for taking advantage of someone; but after a year of it, he'd become accustomed to doing whatever he wanted to fulfill his own desires. A year without Dean, without Bobby, without his own soul… it could really give a person a reality check. This is your perception of the world at large: Chaotic, in ruin, incurable.

Now give you some crisp, new, glasses; prescription: actuality. These are your new eyes, these are your new hands, and this is you.

Sam really went off the rails from there. He had no fear, no weariness. He took out entire nests of vampires, slaughtered whole packs of shifters, and ganked communities of vengeful spirits. When a hunt arose, he was on it. Other hunters stepped aside when they saw him, made sure not to get in his way. Sam had killed a couple hunters that year, simply because they were bait or too dull to properly deal with.

When Dean came back into his life, it was a breath of fresh air. He had been watching the ex-hunter for some time, making sure to keep him safe; keep them normal. When Dean finally returned, it was a rush of adrenaline, among other things; darker things.

And when he finally had Dean alone…

* * *

Sam ripped open Dean's shirt, smoothing a calloused hand over his chest. The older man sucked a breath in, still weakly tugging at Sam's makeshift restraints holding his hands above his head. Dean pushed his knees together in an attempt to hide himself, but Sam had other plans. He pushed the hunter's legs apart and nestled in between his thighs. He squeezed Dean's knee caps and rolled his hips against the others. Dean whimpered in protest, looking anywhere but Sam. He shut his eyes tight as Sam repeated the action, creating friction he didn't want to enjoy, encouraging feelings he knew were wrong. Sam ducked down and bit Dean's collar bone, and then proceeded to nip his way down the other's chest and stomach. He gave the inside of Dean's thigh a kiss, looking up through his hair to see if he was watching. He smirked when his eyes met brilliant green, pupils blown with arousal.

"I'll make you want it," he whispered venomously in Dean's ear. "I want to hear you beg."

Dean yanked at his restraints, his hands pressing against each other tighter each time he did so. Sam drew his nails down Dean's side and across his stomach, leaving angry red lines. Dean gasped in pain, watching the ceiling now as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Sam growled, a low sound that came from the back of his throat, demanding attention. He hooked his fingers in Dean's belt loops practically tore the garment off him, leaving him in just his boxer briefs

"Sam, please, think about what you're doing…" Dean begged, his voice weak. Sam expected to feel guilt… he expected heart-sinking regret… something… _anything_… but all he felt was arousal, so ready to either shut Dean up completely or make him scream.

He decided he preferred vocals.

* * *

Sam didn't feel much different from a demon. Take, take, take… and never giving; he killed those monsters, but it's not like he was doing it for someone. He did it for himself, to keep himself out of trouble; because if it wasn't a monster, it was going to be another hunter.

Sam was the basic primal instincts: Fight, Kill, Mark, _Fuck._

He was as heartless as any other monster, because he wasn't even human anymore. He got what he wanted, and anyone who tried to stop him, well…

Sam remembered meeting up with his grandfather, also named Samuel, when he first came back from the pit. Of course, some pieces were missing, but other than that, he was perfectly capable of whatever he was told to do: a fine, mindless, undefeatable soldier with way more anger in him than anything remotely normal.

That year was lonely. The year without Dean was the most agonizing time of his life. He wanted, so badly, his brother; because what had remained of Sam held Dean in a high position in his head. Dean was most important, Dean was right, Dean was special, and Dean always came first.

Sometimes, during that year, he ached so badly to feel; and he wanted the only thing that made his heart pound… and that was his brother. He wanted to take his brother, hold him close. Bury himself deep in Dean's warmth until he was moaning for more. He wanted Dean to want him; he wanted Dean to make him whole; to make him human.

He wanted Dean to make him feel, feel everything.

* * *

Sam unzipped his own jeans and slipped them off in one fluid movement. He pushed his fingertips past the elastic waistband of Dean's briefs, feeling the heated skin. He felt his erection brush against the inside of Dean's thigh, making not only him gasp, but Dean as well. He readjusted his legs and ground down on Dean's hips, creating delicious friction that spiked pleasure up his spine, and a new wave of heat filled him. Dean stifled a moan, trying to make it seem like Sam wasn't so good at this. Maybe if Dean wasn't enjoying it, he would stop.

Of course, he wasn't about to. Sam shoved his hand into Dean's boxers, wrapping his fingers around Dean's length. Dean shuttered, straining against the ties around his wrists. Dean failed to bite back a particularly loud moan when Sam started rhythmically stroking him, his resolve falling away, even though he still felt sick to his stomach.

"Do you want it?" Sam asked, his voice heavy with desire. Dean made a strangled noise when Sam rubbed his thumb over the tip of his shaft. His breaths came in soft pants, exciting Sam even more, if it was possible. He pulled the briefs down and off Dean before pulling his own boxers off as well. Dean swallowed thickly when he saw Sam's length. His face immediately grew a dark shade of red, making him feel dizzy.

Sam took a sharp breath in, and shakily let it out. The sight of Dean writhing beneath his hand was almost too much. He wanted him now, whether Dean was ready or not. He spread Dean's legs wide and dipped down to lick and bite his brother's already marked neck, red and heated.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he breathed against Dean's ear, making a shiver run down the older man's spine. "I'll fuck you so well you won't want anyone else but me."

Dean let his head fall against the sheets, exposing his collar to his brother as a sign of submission. He knew he wasn't getting away at this point. He only hoped not everything will be wrecked when this was over.

Sam lifted Dean's legs over his shoulders and thrust roughly into his unwilling body, making him cry out in agony. His toes curled as Sam slowly withdrew until he was all the way out, then pushed back in again. Dean bit the inside of his cheek until it split, tainting his tongue with the metal taste of his own blood.

"Ah-!" Dean gasped when Sam thrust hard against his prostate, making him see stars. "_F-fuck_!"

Sam's movements became faster and harder, going as deep as he could; taking in Dean's cries and soft pleas, the sounds fueling him. He wrapped his hand around Dean's shoulder where Castiel's hand had left a clear, permanent hand print. Sam dug his fingers into the more sensitive skin, gaining a pained shout from his brother.

"Why don't you call for your little slut?" Sam panted, feeling an anger fill him, but it didn't turn him off. He smirked at the pain in Dean's eyes, the broken soul he saw underneath all his layers. "Scream for me," Sam commanded, one hand gripping Dean's hip so hard his fingertips were white with strain; the other hand gripping Dean's hair and yanking his head back to expose his throat.

"S-Sam!" he screamed, his throat already pretty scratchy. He winced, his eyes tearing up. Sam searched his brothers eyes, full of emotions, tears spilling over now. His mouth didn't dry, his mind didn't revert to anguish and regret. He didn't feel a damn thing. He buried himself deep into Dean as he rode out his climax, and Dean followed suit moments after. Sam immediately pulled out and untied the restrains.

After a hesitant shift, Dean curled in on himself, tucking his hands against his chest.

"I hate you," he whispered under his breath. It took Sam by surprise, or what he thought was surprise. His eyes briefly widened, but they soon fell half-lidded once more. Sam left him alone, unable to say a single word about what happened, and went to take a shower. Over the pouring of the water, he could hear painfully clear the broken sobs coming from the bedroom.


End file.
